


Army Girl

by aimeewrites



Category: Holby City
Genre: Angst, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:40:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21859201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aimeewrites/pseuds/aimeewrites
Summary: Mother and daughter relationship ; status: "It's complicated"
Relationships: Serena Campbell/Bernie Wolfe
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40





	1. Chapter 1

**December 2016, a few days before Christmas**

For once, AAU was quiet. “The lull before the storm”, muttered Bernie to Serena. She much preferred a busy ward. Paperwork was definitely not one of the advantages of civilian life. Actually, even after several months out of active service, she still doubted the wisdom of her choice. She now accepted her marriage had already been dead. Actually, if it wasn’t for the woman sitting on the other side of the desk, she would probably have re-enlisted already. She played footsie with said-woman, earning an exasperated look in return. Serena had even more admin than her and hated to be disturbed when she was deep in charts and figures.

“Coffee break?” Bernie suggested hopefully.

“Not now, Bernie! Hanssen wants those back tonight and I’m nowhere near finished”

Bernie pouted like a child but Serena refused to move. She raised her hands in surrender : « Okay, okay – I’ll go – I might even bring you back a cup. »

On the way back from Pulses with a latte, a large black coffee and two pains au chocolat, Bernie smiled to herself – that was what she liked about being at Holby instead of in a field hospital somewhere – being able to bring coffee to her lover and no one batting an eyelid – well, almost… With Alex, they hid – because they were two female officers, and because she had still been married to Marcus. She had made a mess of things, but maybe now she could really relax and enjoy life. If Marcus cut her some slack in the divorce settlement and if her children forgave her, of course. Or rather, if her daughter ever spoke to her again. Cameron had surprised her – he had matured in the last years. But Charlotte… Charlotte was another story. She had not seen her daughter for… For eight years – an eternity. Especially since they were now in the same country. Not that it hadn’t mattered when she had been in deployment in Afghanistan but... Eight years, and she still didn’t know what she had done wrong. She didn’t know anything about her daughter’s life, actually, and if she lingered on that thought, it slowly ate at her heart. She knew how it had begun, though – the year before Charlotte’s A-levels. Her brilliant, straight A-student daughter had become moody and erratic. Bernie had been working at Queen Elizabeth’s Hospital in Birmingham then, in the trauma military ward, and commuting to the family home. Marcus had been the absent parent then, on a mission with Doctors without Borders. At first Charlotte had accused her of not caring enough, and then of caring too much. Because of course, when Charlotte’s grades had begun to drop, they had had several “discussions”. More like – rows – tempestuous rows ending by Charlotte storming out and slamming the door in her mother’s face, sometimes late at night when Bernie had just come back from a long shift. And there had been the times when Charlotte had come home blind drunk in the early hours of the morning. Bernie had berated her for throwing her life away - for following her brother’s example. Cameron had been sent down from med school and was working as a barman, because neither of his parents would finance an “idle little bugger”, as Marcus had called him.

Every row with her daughter had felt pĥysically painful – every time, she had ended up with a migraine and the knowledge she wasn’t cut out to be a parent. She was an utter failure as a mother. One day, Charlotte had come home and announced she wasn’t going to follow in her parents’ footsteps after all. She didn’t want to study medicine – she wanted to draw. She wanted to go to art school. And even though Bernie had known her daughter was a gifted artist, she had ranted and raved at the idea that Charlotte would choose such an unpredictable career path. In truth, she had been terrified for her – her children had never known what it was to do without – she had. Her parents had divorced when she was a child and her father had never paid child support. Her mother had had to work for the first time in her life then – she had found a secretarial job and had taken boarders in their large-ish flat to make ends meet. They had lived in genteel poverty, and although they had never starved, they had eaten a lot of bread and porridge. Her mother’s brother, a wing commander in the RAF had played the role of fairy godfather and had paid for her to go to medical school. Since she hadn’t wanted him to pay for everything, she had decided to enlist too – the Army helped her pay for her medical studies. Her childhood had left her scarred. The fear of not having enough had never quite left her, even when she had married the well-off Marcus, son and heir of a wealthy lawyer. And so fear had made her lash out at her daughter, time and time again, verbal attacks that had left them both angry and exhausted. Until she had noticed her daughter’s eyes at breakfast one day – black, pin points in a sea of white. At first she’d dismissed it – that just wasn’t possible – not Charlotte. But it had happened again and this time she had raided her daughter’s room and found the pills. She had stayed home from work on purpose that day – called in sick for maybe the first time in her working life. And when Charlotte had come home, she had slapped her so hard her fingers had left a scarlet mark on Charlotte’s pale cheeks. Charlotte had left home that day. Bernie hadn’t wanted to believe it at first. Surely her daughter had gone to stay with a friend – she was sixteen, after all. However, that same evening, she had had a call from her own mother – Charlotte had arrived on her doorstep half an hour before and she had asked if she could live there. Permanently.

Bernie hadn’t really been worried – her mother wasn’t an easy person to live with, and her daughter wouldn’t remain long at her gran’s. Maybe a week or two, a month at most. She had thrown herself into work, doing long hours at the hospital, and the weeks had stretched into months...By the summer holidays, Charlotte had almost emptied her room and installed herself at her grand-mother’s. When Marcus had come home, Charlotte had agreed to see him but refused to come back home. For Christmas that year, Charlotte had come for lunch but refused to speak to her mother. And then, Marcus had said something wrong – or several somethings. He had come to Bernie’s defence and tried to get Charlotte to apologise. And he had criticised his daughter’s then-boyfriend. From then on, he had been ostracised too. All she knew was that Charlotte had taken a gap year after university, to travel. She also knew that she had come back to England, but her own mother had actually sided with her daughter and refused to play the go-between any longer. Four years previously, Mrs Wolfe senior had had a stroke which had had lasting effects on her speech and she was now in a nursing home. Bernie had no idea if Charlotte had ever visited her there. If something happened, she had no way of contacting her own daughter. She had found an email address and a postal one for her in her mother’s address book, and she regularly wrote to those addresses on Charlotte’s birthdays and for Christmases but she had never got any reply. Cameron wasn’t in touch with his sister either, so... She had no way of knowing if her words had even been read. She went on trying, though – sometimes just sending thoughts or scrupulously avoiding any emotional topics, and sometimes apologising for what she had done wrong, whatever it was, and asking for a chance to make things right. Eight years of silence...


	2. Chapter 2

As she came back into the office and handed the latte and one of the pastries to Serena, she caught a glimpse of the picture of Elinor on her desk. At least Serena was in contact with her daughter, even if the relationship could be rocky sometimes. They were all supposed to spend Christmas together at Serena’s. Apparently Elinor hadn’t taken the fact that her mother was dating a woman very well... Suddenly Bernie felt an urgent need for a human touch. She set her coffee on the desk and came to wrap her arms around Serena’s shoulder, burying her head in her neck. This finally drew Serena away from her spreadsheets long enough for their lips to meet in a coffee-flavoured moment.

Bernie couldn’t help marvelling at herself... Before Serena, she had always shied away from human touch. She hated massages and could hardly bear to be examined by a colleague in a medical context. It had taken Alex several months of patience for them to be intimate together. With Serena... It hadn’t been easy either, but since Kiev something in her had been released, freeing her from many restraints of her past and of society expectations. At first she had only been able to accept the embraces and kisses given to her by her lover – that first, mad, exhaustion-induced kiss between them had been the exception proving the rule – but now she was able to initiate those instants of loving contact – even at work! It still felt...risky, though, or maybe risqué. That was something she had lost in leaving the army – rules and safety. Somehow, even though her life had been in danger many times – she would have died in the IED accident if Alex hadn’t pulled her out of the burning vehicle – she had felt safe. Even if she liked being in charge, sometimes obeying rules and orders was comforting.

“So – what did you get your kids for Christmas? I got Elinor a gift card – I’ve no idea what she likes these days. If I get her clothes, she’ll just go and exchange them...”

That simple question made Bernie deeply uncomfortable. She hadn’t told Serena about the situation with Charlotte – she hadn’t told anyone, in fact – just Alex, after an evening of too many mixed drinks of uncertain origin, and she hadn’t been very coherent then. And so – she had somehow let Serena believe that Charlotte would come for Christmas lunch too. She hadn’t really lied – she hadn’t said anything one way or the other – but it was a lie by omission, and she felt guilty about it. And now she was in too deep, and she didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t say she had no idea what her daughter liked either, because she hadn’t bought her presents for eight years...

“Err - nothing yet and not a clue. Not very good with presents anyway. So – anything new? I meant – any patient come in while I was doing the coffee run?”

Serena sighed in exasperation: “Bernie ! Christmas is in four days – don’t you think you should do something about those presents? And no – nothing new. Still very quiet, but –“

She never got to finish her sentence as three stretchers were brought in the ward – the result of a pile-up on the M5. “Here you go”, Serena said wryly as she saved her work on the computer and stood up. “You jinxed it! Peace’s over.”

Bernie shrugged and followed her – she much preferred being busy - less time to mull things over.

The crash had been a bad one and the victims seriously wounded. Two more victims had been brought in – a lorry had skidded and strayed in the wrong lane and collided into a car that had then been rammed from behind by another one. The lorry driver had been brought in, one of the drivers had died on the scene and among the four others injured, three of them belonged to the same family – a father and his two young daughters. Bernie did her best but the youngest one had been brought in a critical state and she died on the operating table. As she scrubbed off, she washed her hands for so long under very hot water they began to wrinkle. She could never accept the death of a child, especially when she had had a chance to save her and she hadn’t managed to. Serena tried to comfort her, but to no avail – whatever her partner could say, and even though she herself knew full well the odds hadn’t been in her favour, Bernie blamed herself. When she saw Bernie wash her hands all over again with water so hot you could see the steam, Serena put her hand on her arm but Bernie shook her off – she had to wash away her guilt.

She noticed her hand shook a little as she lit up in the parking lot. She was doing her best to stop but on days like that, she didn’t even try. She took deep breaths between drags and attempted to compose herself. She only came back inside when she felt her fingertips begin to freeze.


	3. Chapter 3

As she came out of the lift, she noticed two men standing near the empty nurses’ desk. She looked around but everyone else looked busy – she would have to see what they wanted.

“Can I help you?”

The eldest, a tall, wiry grey-haired man smiled at her: “Good afternoon, Ma’am – we’re looking for Major Berenice Wolfe? We’ve been told she was working here.”

Bernie’s heart began to beat a tattoo. Her first impression was confirmed – they were military. “I’m Major Wolfe. What is this about?” As she uttered the words, her thoughts waged battle in her head and a deep sense of dread rose in her stomach. Alex – it could only be Alex. Wounded – or – or dead. Bernie remembered when Alex had asked her if she could designate her as next of kin and emergency contact. Alex had been raised by her grand-parents but they had died a few years previously, leaving Alex with no family but a cousin she had never even met. Alex had been hesitant to ask, knowing how hard it would be for Bernie is=d something were to happen... And now... She nearly missed the officer’s words.

“Major. Lieutenant-Colonel Worsley, Ma’am. I’m sorry to have to inform you that Corporal Charlotte Dunne has been very seriously wounded by enemy fire. She has been transferred to Camp Bastion hospital this morning and will be airlifted to this hospital as soon as her condition stabilises. I have to tell you, though, that she is on the Very Seriously Injured list.”

Bernie’s eyes widened and she swayed, steadying herself on the desk. Then she unconsciously straightened up, her back stiffening as her military training kicked in. “Corporal – Charlotte – Dunne?” she repeated slowly, unable to take the words in.

“Yes, Major – she listed you as EC.”

“She did?” murmured Bernie, shell-shocked. Her daughter in the army? Her daughter wounded? Maybe dying? On any day it would have been hard to take in, but today she still felt particularly fragile. However, she couldn’t show any weakness in front of a fellow officer, and a superior one to boost . She schooled her facial expression into impassivity and tried to steady her voice. Carefully, hiding any emotion or surprise, she asked: “Can you tell me what happened and what her injuries are?”

“Corporal Dunne was on her way back from a village in Bagrami, Ma’am. She and the vet had been advising the natives on cattle care, and they were returning to camp when their vehicle got under enemy fire. Seems that her dog saved her life...”

“I see...” Or rather, at sea, because Bernie had so many questions unanswered that she had no idea what to do, except that she had to be with her daughter.

“When can I leave for Camp Bastion, Colonel? Are there any transports leaving today? I need to be there.”

The officer frowned – from what he had been told, there were two alternatives – either the corporal survived the next few hours and she would be transported to the UK or she didn’t. In any case, there was no point for the major to go to Camp Bastion. He really hated to be CNO, especially when he had to deal with one of their own. He could see the blonde major wouldn’t be easily placated. The other officer with him was a junior and he couldn’t very well give him any advice. Meanwhile, Bernie was waiting expectantly for his answer while trying to remember if she had any colleague currently working at Camp Bastion. He finally told her the truth – that it wouldn’t be any use for her to go.

She had no idea how long they’d stayed – it could have been seconds or hours – time had stopped in her heart. At one point, they’d made her sit down in one of the chairs intended for visitors, and although she had stood up to see them out of the ward, her legs suddenly couldn’t find their way to the office and she sat down again in the corridor. She finally glanced at the piece of paper they’d given her. It was there, in black and white “Corporal Charlotte Dunn, RAVC, Vet. Tech., VSI in Bagrami, Afgh.” She couldn’t stay there. She had to contact someone – and for that, she had to go back to her office. Stand up, Wolfe – walk – straight on, to the left. Open door – sit again. Maybe if she gave herself orders if would work. The office was empty. Good – she didn’t want to have to explain. She switched her computer on and after a few minutes managed to access a website she never thought she would need again – Camp Bastion hospital, the access reserved for army medics. She couldn’t think of any names, so she just contacted the Emergency department. Inquired about Charlotte. Was told she would be leaving for Holby at 1800. A long wait – a very long wait. She knew it meant her condition was stable, but... Anything could happen, and she couldn’t do anything other than wait. Patience – not her forte. She sank her head in her hands just as Serena walked into the office.

“Long day” said the brunette soberly. “I hope you’re not still blaming yourself for this morning, love. You know you couldn’t have done anything. Want to go and get a drink? We’re more than due to clock off...”

Bernie raised her head slowly and wiped her wet cheeks with the back of her hands. Major Bernie Wolfe did not cry – not in public, anyway, not even with her lover.

“Oh – Bernie...” Serena came forward and hugged her and for a moment Bernie let herself relax in the embrace. She bit her lips and tried to find the words to explain.

“Serena – it’s not – it’s not what you think. It’s – Charlotte – my daughter. She’s been hurt – badly. She – she’s in a coma and... She sustained several bullet wounds. They’re – they’re airlifting her from Camp Bastion but... she – she might not make it.”

Serena looked at her, completely bewildered, and hugged her tighter, kissing her hair: “Bullet wounds? Camp Bastion? But...”

“Yes – my daughter is a soldier, and I had no idea” replied Bernie miserably before beginning to sob in earnest. The one thing she couldn’t deal with was kindness. 


	4. Chapter 4

The hours waiting for the army ambulance to arrive were the longest in Bernie’s life. She would have insisted on staying in the office but Serena had managed to drag her to one of the on-call rooms, where they would at least have a little privacy. Around the early hours of the morning, as both women were still wide awake, Bernie began to tell Serena about Charlotte – mostly about her childhood, but also a little about the rift between them. She showed Serena the two pictures she had of her daughter in her wallet – the first one showed a little blonde girl in a garden, hugging a black lab almost as big as her. “That was Max – she loved that dog and he was devoted to her.” The second picture showed eleven-year-old Charlotte , toothy grin shiny with braces, riding hat on and brandishing a rosette. “She’d just won her first gymkhana... I shouldn’t be surprised, really. She’s always loved animals. We were lucky there were stables not to far from the cottage - her grand-parents gave her a horse for her tenth birthday, and I think she would have insisted we built a paddock in the back garden if there hadn’t been one she could reach on her bike.” Bernie sighed: “I just don’t understand why she chose to join up – I mean – I get the horses and dogs part, but...”

“Maybe she just wanted to follow in your footsteps?” suggested Serena gently.

“Ha! Last time we spoke – she said she hated me. She said she wished she’d never been born... She said she wasn’t a puppet I could manipulated at will. So... I highly doubt that.”

“Bernie... She was a teenager then – they know how to get under your skin. She didn’t mean it. I’m sure she wanted you to be proud of her.”

Bernie shook her head slowly: “This just doesn’t make sense.”

But in a twisted way, it did. Because Charlotte was a lot like her – fiercely independent but also in need of security and rules. Highly intelligent, too, but unlike her, Charlotte preferred hands-on experience to book learning. She loved the outdoors, too – she had insisted on joining the Guides although neither of her parents had belonged. And the army would have given her funding for her studies as a veterinary technician. If her daughter had really joined to make her proud... She would be responsible for her death.

Bernie’s pager rang at a quarter to six and both women jumped up. As Serena made to follow Bernie out of the room, the latter put a restraining hand on her arm: “Stay here and get some sleep. There’s no need for you to come – they wouldn’t let you in ICU anyway – they might not even let me in...” And it might be too late, Bernie finished in her mind.

When she arrived in ICU, she almost collided with Guy Self, and although she didn’t like him much, she felt a sudden burst of relief. If they’d called him, it meant Charlotte was still alive. And even though he was a pretentious twat, he was one of the best neurosurgeon, and she trusted him. When he saw her, he briefly put his hand on her arm in a comforting gesture and they went in together.

More than twelve hours later, Bernie still hadn’t slept and she was beginning to doze off in the uncomfortable armchair near her daughter’s bed. Although Self had assured her that Charlotte’s Glasgow scale score and vital signs indicated she should come out of the coma, the young woman still hadn’t even fluttered an eyelid. Charlotte had apparently been extremely lucky – the bullets hadn’t mangled any vital organ, although several tendons in her right arm had been sectioned and her right lung had been hit. An ugly red scar also marred her forehead. Serena had come, offering comfort and coffee, but she had brushed her off – she wanted to be alone with her daughter. She could barely hold it together and she knew affection would make her unravel completely. Nurses and doctors had come in at regular intervals and she had almost resented the intrusions. Guy Self had told her to talk to Charlotte and she had been doing just that, recalling childhood holidays and Christmases, and telling her she was sorry and they could start again. She had prayed, too – not something she was used to do, but surely it couldn’t do any harm. She’d made the usual bargains with God – if she wakes up, I’ll go to church more often... I’ll give money to charities...I’ll believe in You...

When she was woken up suddenly by one of the nurses banging a tray on the table, her eyes immediately went to her daughter. No change...

After the second day, Serena had tried again – offered to stay while she at least went and got a shower and a change of clothes. Bernie had shaken her head – she couldn’t leave her daughter. When Serena had tried to insist, she had sent her on her way with a few choice words. She’d mechanically nibbled on the biscuits Serena had brought, drank the coffee and allowed herself a few loo breaks but otherwise she had remained at Charlotte’s bedside.

Another day passed – hours blurred into each other. Bernie’s voice had become hoarse from talking softly for hours. She saw day becoming night only through the small window, but it could have been morning or midnight when she thought she saw Charlotte’s fingers move. She stared hard at her daughter. An illusion brought by exhaustion? A few minutes later, she realised it had been no illusion. Charlotte’s eyes fluttered open for a few seconds. Paralysed by hope, Bernie didn’t call anyone. She took her daughter’s hand in hers and waited, encouraging Charlotte to wake up properly. As a reward, deep brown eyes focused on hers for a few seconds before closing again. Bernie checked all the monitors – her daughter’s pulse was low but steady – everything seemed fine. She didn’t – she couldn’t. If she had a second chance, she wanted to face it alone – like when she had given birth to Charlotte. No one needed to know yet – she wouldn’t call Marcus until she knew.

Eight years since she had last heard “Mum” in her daughter’s voice and it had last been shouted in anger. This time it came tiny, in a murmur, and Bernie held on to it with all her soul. Charlotte was alive, and she recognised her. She thought she would weep with joy or scream, but instead she just swallowed hard and gripped her daughter’s hand tighter. And then she paged Guy Self.

Not until Charlotte was free of all the tubes sticking into her and sleeping peacefully did Bernie finally leave the room. The harsh light of the corridor after the softened lightening of the ICU room made her blink and she felt suddenly light-headed. She couldn’t believe the nightmare was over. They didn’t know yet if Charlotte would have lasting after-effects but she had been able to utter several coherent sentences and to respond adequately to Guy’s tests. Things looked hopeful. She would eventually have to call Marcus – but first, she had to see Serena, and to apologise. The office looked dark and empty and her heart sank – of course she hadn’t really welcomed her lover’s attentions during the last few days. Hissing “Get out! Leave me alone – you don’t understand!” was definitely not one of her finest moments, but surely she had had excuses? Surely Serena understood she hadn’t been quite herself and she hadn’t meant it? Surely she wouldn’t have just left the hospital without … She spied a piece of paper on the keyboard of her computer and unfolded it, noting detachedly that her hands were trembling from tension and exhaustion.

“Call me the minute you see this, darling – I just had to nip home to tell Elinor I would be spending Christmas at the hospital with you. Serena xx”

Christmas! Bernie lifted her eyes to the mural calendar clock – 25th of December. How fitting – her daughter had been given a new lease on life on the day of the Nativity. She would have to tell Cameron – and Marcus. They were spending Christmas together and Cameron was going to join her at Serena’s later. She took a deep breath – maybe it could wait a little longer – it was only nine o’clock – Cameron wouldn’t even be awake yet. She wasn’t looking forward to the conversation with Marcus. He was going to blame her – to say it was her fault, because she had driven Charlotte away and into the army... She would call Serena first – she closed her eyes, imagining her lover’s arms around her in a comforting embrace.

No answer – of course she would get the voicemail. She didn’t leave a message. She couldn’t apologise to a machine anyway. She took a pen and added a few words to Serena’s message – “wait for me please? Bernie x” – in case Serena came back to the office, put it on Serena’s side of the desk and closed the door behind her. She made her way to the locker room and grabbed the spare clothes she kept there before heading for the staff showers. She stayed under the warm water for a long time, and when she came out, she realised she was crying and her hands still shaking. She put her clean clothes on and made her way back to the office. She thought of stopping at Pulses for coffee and a bite to eat but the thought of braving “Jingle bells” or “Santa baby” at full volume and the staff wearing seasonal jumper and smiles suddenly felt daunting. Nor did she want to sample gluten-free, soya-free, sugar-free mince pies or carob yule log. She and Serena had a secret stash of biscuits and chocolate in the office and it would do for now. She made a detour via the staff kitchenette and made herself a cup of tea – while she waited for the kettle, she rang the nurses in ICU who told her Charlotte was still sleeping peacefully.

This time the lights were on in the office and Serena was in her chair. The brunette jumped up when she saw Bernie and questioned her with a look. Bernie didn’t need any words – her huge smile made her chestnut eyes sparkle and told Serena everything she wanted to know – Charlotte was alive. She opened her arms and Bernie hurried into them. She buried her head in Serena’s neck and held on for dear life.


	5. Chapter 5

**Three weeks later**

Bernie had always hated the saying “Every cloud has its silver lining”, and yet… She would have given anything to prevent her daughter getting hurt. Obviously. And although Charlotte’s recovery was going well, she was still facing a long stay in a clinic before she could eventually go back to normal life. Although her cognitive faculties had come back unimpaired except for traumatic amnesia about the shooting itself, her injuries to her legs and arms were extensive and she would very likely be unable to walk without a limb. One of her main concerns after she had woken up properly was to know what had happened to the dog who was with her in the vehicle and she had been overjoyed when she’d learnt he had escaped with only minor scratches and was with one of her colleagues. Bernie had spent many hours at Charlotte’s bedside, only leaving it for work – on a reduced schedule – and a few hours of sleep. After having talked so much when her daughter had been unconscious, she had suddenly found herself tongue-tied when the latter was again able to hear her. As it remained difficult for Charlotte to form sentences at first, silence began to weigh heavily on them, and yet Bernie couldn’t imagine not being there. Marcus came when she was working – he had, as she had predicted, blamed her for the whole thing. No matter than she had had no contact with her daughter for years, nor known that she’d enlisted. Cameron had come a few times too, but he was doing a spell at the Royal London Hospital and he had very little spare time.

And then disaster had struck – again – and this time, there had been no silver lining – not even a crumb of hope. Elinor had died. As much as Christmas had brought good tidings for Bernie, the New Year had devastated Serena and Bernie had found herself having to be in several different places at once – with her daughter, with her partner, and at work, shouldering alone the whole AAU while Serena was off. The guilt of knowing that Elinor and Serena had been at odds about Serena “sudden sapphic orientation” rested heavily on Bernie’s conscience. Even though rationally she knew she had nothing to do with Elinor’s drug habit, she couldn’t help thinking that maybe, just maybe, Elinor wouldn’t have used so much if she and Serena... It also hammered in the importance of not leaving things unsaid with the ones you loved – if Charlotte had died – there were so many blank pages to fill, so many regrets unspoken...The easiest way, of course, would be to just erase the last eight years – never to speak of that time again. Somehow, Bernie didn’t trust the easy way – it could blow up in their faces at any times. She had to talk to her daughter. She just didn’t know how, and she had no one to ask. Obviously she couldn’t talk about it with Serena.

Meanwhile, the long shifts and the worry were taking their toll and she found it harder and harder to keep her temper in check. She knew that snapping at her colleagues would not make things go faster but she couldn’t help herself and even though people cut her some slack knowing the circumstances, the atmosphere in AAU was heavy and strained. When in a fit of despondency she threw to the floor one of the numerous vases of flowers sent to Serena, she knew something would have to give. As she stalked off to get a mop, she was waylaid by Hanssen. As much as she wished she could just have told him to go to hell because she really wasn’t in the mood for chit-chat, she still had a modicum of common sense and followed him sullenly to his office.

Henrik Hanssen would have made a good father confessor. Or shrink. He had that ability to leave semi-comfortable silences in a conversation while remaining perfectly calm and composed. Finally, after offering Bernie a cup of green tea, he cleared his throat and she reclined deeper in her seat, preparing herself for a sermon.

“I am very sorry for everything you’ve had to go through recently, Ms. Wolfe. I believe your daughter is doing well, though.”

“She – is”, conceded Bernie grudgingly. “But…”

“You cannot blame yourself, Ms Wolfe. Children… They have their own mind. I just wanted to know I am here if you need anyone to talk to. Everyone needs support.”

This wasn’t what Bernie had envisioned. She had been expecting Henrik to chew her off for her behaviour on the wards. His words threw her off guard and made her lower her defences. She avoided his eyes and looked at her hands: “Thank you. It’s – it’s hard. For Serena. Losing her daughter like that…And…”

“And you can’t talk to her because Charlotte is getting better.”

Bernie nodded. “And Charlotte – I want to talk to her but…”

“But you don’t know how. Yes – if I may give you some advice, Ms. Wolfe – maybe you don’t need to talk. Maybe you just need to listen.”

“I’m sure you’re right, Mr. Hanssen – but I’m not sure Charlotte wants to speak to me.”

Just then, her beeper went off and she glanced at the screen and jumped up, apologising to Hanssen on her way out. She didn’t think about his words until late that night, after she’d brought dinner to Serena and gone home. For a week now, Serena had refused to let her stay the night – she said she wanted to be alone. Bernie hated to leave her – she was always afraid Serena would drink herself into oblivion...Or worse. However, she didn’t want to force herself on her lover, fearing Serena would retreat even further into her shell, so she went home and remained awake for most of the night. She was walking on eggshells with Serena, on thin ice with Charlotte - and she couldn’t bear it. Maybe she could at least try something with her daughter – Serena needed time. Accessing the website for armed forces, she drafted an email.

A few days later, Bernie took half a day off and drove to the nearest military airfield, where she took delivery of a very precious cargo. She smuggled it to Keller, where Charlotte had been moved, and gave it a pep talk in the stairs: “Now, I want you to be a good boy. Even if you’re very pleased to see your mistress, please don’t bark or we’re both going to be in deep, deep trouble.” She followed her words by a big hug and pushed the ward door cautiously. The nurses seemed busy – good! She slipped in Charlotte’s room and took a deep breath. Her daughter was sleeping. She bent down and murmured “Go on, Jasper – I trust you” in the long silky ear and let go of the collar. The black lab went directly to the bed and nuzzled Charlotte’s hand. The young woman moaned a bit, eyes still closed, and the dog emitted a very soft noise which made Charlotte open her eyes widely and throw her arms around him. Her huge smile told Bernie that for once, she had done the right thing. She cleared her throat: “He – he was going into retirement in a year, and… Well, let’s say he earned his early retirement. He’s all yours, darling. And if you want to go back, we – your father and I – we’ll help you with him.” Charlotte’s eyes shone: “Thank you, Mum – it’s – thank you.”

Bernie gulped and went on: “I love you, darling – I know I don’t say it enough, but – I’m sorry for everything, and I want us to…” She didn’t manage to finish her sentence. Charlotte opened her arms for a cuddle and Bernie hurried in the embrace. Jasper, overjoyed, managed to lick both their noses at the same time...

His visit remained short – Bernie had a little clout at Holby but she didn’t want to flout the rules too much. She decided to take him to Serena for the time being – he would be happier in her house with the garden than in her own tiny studio flat. And he might even cheer Serena a little too – he was a handsome dog, despite the few furless places where he had suffered wounds while saving Charlotte, and very affectionate. Very well-trained, too – no danger to Serena’s carpets.


	6. Chapter 6

** Epilogue  **

_“This is where you tell me you want to go and find yourself… Is there room for me in your future plans? …I hope so…I can live with that.”_

Or at least she had told Serena she could. She might even have believed it, back then on the roof, for at least a second or two. Of course Serena needed time to heal. It would have been selfish to ask her to stay. And someone had to keep the trauma unit working. Although – if Serena had asked her to come with her, she would have agreed in a jiffy. But she hadn’t asked, and all Bernie had to cling to were three little words “I – hope – so”. Not enough to patch the broken pieces of her heart. What if Serena did find herself thousands of miles away and decided not to come back?

The wound inflicted by the rift with her daughter had just started to heal, and Serena’s decision came to cauterize it, burning like a red-hot iron on a sensitised skin. She was slowly beginning to rebuild a relationship with Charlotte, and now Serena was casting doubts on theirs. She could understand – Elinor’s death had shattered Serena to her very core. She had seen too many soldiers fall apart after seeing their friends die and lost too many people herself not to understand the impact of grief. She would have to hang on to hope. Her corps motto – she still couldn’t quite believe she had left the army – was after all “in arduis fidelis” – faithful in adversity. She would be faithful to their love and hope for the best.

Serena had asked her to stay in her house while she was away, arguing it made no sense for her to remain in her tiny and rather grotty studio flat while the house stood empty. Bernie had demurred at first – Serena knew full well she had no need for a chef-standard kitchen, nor any gift whatsoever for gardening. She had finally yielded, however, because Charlotte had to stay in a clinic for at least three more months and couldn’t take Jasper. And so she had become official caretaker of the black lab – and sometimes of a rather cantankerous tabby who apparently had taken quarters at Serena’s. Jasper certainly enjoyed the garden and she had to admit she liked being in Serena’s house. It made their bond seem tighter – a life together a possibility. She grabbed her tablet from her bag and settled on the sofa with a mug of tea and biscuits – her long days often made her too tired to eat a real meal. About ten seconds later, Jasper hopped on the sofa beside her and laid his front paws and head on her lap. Not wanting to be left out, the tabby perched on the back rest above her shoulder – now that he’d become used to her, he allowed her to pet him. Since she had no idea of his real name, she called him Gumbie. She browsed through her emails, disappointed not to find anything from Serena. She had paperwork to do, but the sofa felt so very cosy and her eyelids so very heavy that she soon fell asleep to a chorus of doggie snores and purrs.


End file.
